


Drizzles, Drabbles, and Bears, Oh My

by Shamione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bathroom Sex, Cute Kids, Declarations Of Love, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Hogsmeade, Kissing, M/M, Multi, Passion, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Hermione Granger, Professor Neville Longbottom, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Single Parent Hermione Granger, Single Parents, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 15,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamione/pseuds/Shamione
Summary: A collection of drabbles, short-shots, drizzles, and all those other words for small entries. Most will be Dramione, but there will be some additional pairings if that muse so hits me. Those chapters will be marked in chapter notes!
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 146
Kudos: 186





	1. Interim Headmistress

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DFFR 2.0 - Drabble Days prompt one: back to Hogwarts!

"I am not required to do as you say merely because McGonagall placed you in charge this year." 

Hermione scoffed, lips stretching into a cutting edge as her arms laced across the deep maroon robes wrapped about her figure. "Actually, Malfoy, that is precisely what my appointment as Interim Headmistress entails. And you will refer to her as Headmistress."

"Her, but never you," Draco ridiculed, rolling his shinning gray eyes with a sneer Hermione knew all too well. 

"I am Deputy Headmistress, Malfoy. Have been for four years. One day you will call me Headmistress." 

A single pale blonde eyebrow lifted, creasing the moonlight skin on his forehead. "And I am a professor, yet you deign me with no title." 

A mocking smirk spread across her features as his nostrils flared. "Maybe if you would do your job, I'd have a reason." 

"Granger, it is that oaf's job to meet the students!" he roared, standing from his chair and slamming his palms against her desk's solid wood like a petulant child.

"Malfoy!" Hermione retorted with a bite, standing as the rage tipped into her curls. "He is your colleague! You may not refer to him that way any longer." 

The deep roll of his eyes almost made Draco's neck whirl in a full circle. "I bloody well can! I still have a scar from his bloody chicken!" 

"It's a meager mark! I do not want to hear it! No more complaining!" she demanded, the stomp of her foot echoing about her chamber. "You will meet the first-years tonight and usher them across the Black Lake. End of discussion!"

"You meet them!" he jeered.

"I must be here to receive the older students and ready the feast!" Hermione snapped, rounding her desk to stand before him, jabbing a finger into his elegantly clad chest. "Our son is going to be on that boat! You should want to welcome him!" 

"Oh, brilliant. Start the poor boy off with the mummy and daddy jokes the moment his feet leave the train," he mocked, his hands sliding about her waist and tugging her in.

"Just do not cry when you see him as you did on the platform," Hermione snickered. 

Her husband's hands curled further about her, pulling her impossibly closer as he growled, "I did not cry. I simply yawned, and my ducts watered." 

"It is fine to cry..." but Draco's lips crushing against hers cut her statement short.

A breathless, passionate kiss that frequently ceased their quarrels. Draco was soft yet utterly commanding when their lips caressed. Passionate but somehow perpetually shy even after fifteen years of marriage, three children, and two kittens. Draco kissed her for long, lingering seconds, and Hermione felt the tension slip from her shoulders as he pulled back.

"Do not be late, do you hear me?" she demanded light-heartedly, soft hands on his chest as he kissed her nose's tip. 

"So long as you promise not to be late to bed."


	2. The Gruffalo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for mentions of character death, but all the fluff.
> 
> This quick short-shot was written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 - Drabble Days prompt 2: International Literacy Day.
> 
> Passages in this text reference, relate to, or quote the children's book The Gruffalo by Julia Donaldson. No copyright infringement is intended and I make no money for posting this.

Draco sighed deeply, flinging his briefcase down haphazardly as the dark green flames of the Floo withered away. The tension in his shoulders was practically palpable, the ongoing Death Eater trials trying to eat away any fraction of soul he had left.

The war ended just over three years ago, and he'd willingly accepted an apprenticeship alongside two-thirds of the golden trio within the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Potter and Weasley went into Auror training a few months later, but Draco found himself fascinated with applications of the law. And thus, he willingly set a course to become a solicitor - the first case he assisted being that of his own father's prosecution.

However, work held little thrill these days. He woke daily well before the sun, getting to the office before 6:00 a.m. and laboring well into the twilight after returning home. But it was worth it if he could have a part in jailing every murderous wizard and witch who obeyed the manic madman that had ripped through wizarding Britain without pause on a treacherous cause.

An ensemble of giggles rang out from the cracked library doors then, captivating Draco's attention. A smile drifted over his features as the harmonious tones floated through the cottage, drawing his feet toward the door. And the sight that greeted him as he pushed it inward made the tension slip swiftly from his shoulders.

A mass of chestnut curls bounced in the nook on the opposite side of the room. Hermione sat with her back against the wall, bathed in the warm sunset's glow from the window beside her, one arm nestled around a starry-eyed blonde-haired boy, the other holding a paper book. Her grin was wide, from ear to ear, as she watched an older blue-haired boy act out the valiant wave of a wand.

Scorpius was born a near spitting image of Draco himself just under two years ago, down to the nearly unnatural shade of blue-grey eyes and thin dimples on his cheeks. And he was just as needy as Draco heard he'd been throughout his toddler years. Constants nos and mines drowned out by joyous laughter and love. Hermione's pouting the days after his birth at his non-existent display of her genes was adorable, her promise of their next child having brunette curls always on constant repeat in Draco's mind. 

Teddy, their godson, was a wild child - his mother's personality and Metamorphmagi abilities evident in his every move. Remus and Nymphadora had entrusted the excitable baby to Draco and Hermione just three weeks before their passing. Three weeks before the end of a grueling, bloody war. He'd spent countless hours with young boy's parents during Hermione's Horcrux hunt, their bond growing powerful until the day Draco broke down in the Great Hall over their lifeless forms.

"He's got terrible tusks and terrible claws," Hermione growled playfully, mocking a scratch on Teddy's leg as he giggled, bouncing back and forth, waving a plastic wand.

"And terrrrible teeth," she growled again, mockingly nipping at Scorpius' fingers as he squealed brightly.

"And terrrrible jaws!"

Teddy cackled audibly, disappearing behind her as he plunged to the plush alcove pillow, thumping his feet as he flailed. Hermione's beautiful peal of laughter rang through the library, radiant grins molding everyone's expressions as Teddy howled heartily and Scorpius babbled unintelligibly but cheerfully.

"Granger, " Draco started, her stunning caramel-colored eyes charged with mirth meeting his and practically melting his heart. "What are you reading to our children?"

"Dada!" Scorpius screeched.

"The Gerrflip!" Teddy beamed, head popping up promptly in excitement.

"Gruffalo," Hermione amended as Draco shuffled through the room toward his family. "We picked it up at the store today, didn't we boys?"

"What is this book?" Draco queried, collapsing into the cushion and bracing himself with a grunt as Teddy leaped into his lap.

"Mum let me pick it out!" Teddy announced proudly, his hair shifting pale blonde as he wrapped his arms around Draco's neck.

"And you chose this?" Draco sought, placing the child on one knee. "What about Babbity Rabbity?"

"No!" Scorpius shrieked with a scrunched face, wiggling free of Hermione's grasp and crawling over to Draco.

"It's International Literacy Day, so we stopped by the bookshop for a few new texts."

Draco scooped the small boy onto his other knee. "I don't see why you need new stories. Babbity Rabbity and the Tales were all I read as a child."

"No, Babbi!" Scorpius screeched, flailing his foot right into Draco's thigh.

"And look how you turned out, " Hermione snickered.

Profound happiness washed away the remnants of his workday as the laughs of the three people he cherished the most joined his. "I think I turned out rather wonderfully."


	3. The Valkyrie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days, prompt 3: World Afro Day and/or Hermione's birthday. 
> 
> I'll go ahead and label this one an M. It's a bit naughty and mentions threesomes and plural marriage.

Salazar damn this club to the depths of hell. Packed to the brim, teeming with drunk people dancing. Laughs abounding, drinks flowing. Music pulsing thickly, making his heart thump an erratic tune. And every aspect annoying the shit out of every fiber of Draco's existence. 

Why Theo adored this place was beyond him. And why he preferred it for tonight's fun, Draco would never understand. It was overcrowded, packed wall to wall with faces neither ever aspired to see again.

Expect one.

And she just so happened to be standing at the bar with Theo, a tiara nestled deep within the passion that was her curly Afro. Chestnut locks glistening under the low illumination of the barback. Glitter gleaming atop her warm, tawny, freckle-covered skin every moment her hips swayed—a low-cut dress framing each delicious curve of her goddess-like physique. A dazzling smile flashing each time she laughed, reaching out to lightly tap or stroke Theo's chest.

Time had only been good to her, Draco noticed as he set a path toward the two familiar faces. She'd filled out, as had the laugh lines on her face. She wasn't that spunky, ruthless little girl she had once been. She'd grown into the fiercest, most relentless, unyielding, beautifully brilliant future Minister for Magic wizarding Britain had ever seen - even the Dark Lord was proud to sing her praises.

Draco could scarcely keep his knees from buckling as she turned - her sights meeting his. Her chocolate-colored eyes were alight, deep happiness radiating over her features that only made her more beautiful. And the simper that grew across her lips as she set her elbows upon and her bare back against the bar was intoxicating. He couldn't tear his eyes away, nerves screaming as he stepped into her and Theo's space.

"Draco, mate! You've come just in time," Theo grinned, lofting a single finger toward the bartender, requesting a third shot. "We were just about to have a toast to the birthday girl."

"A birthday girl, huh? Hello, beautiful," Draco nodded, winking lightly at a somewhat dazed Hermione, who, Merlin-forbid, pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

He could feel his entire figure vibrate with need as she released it, tongue darting slowly before her lips parted. Her lips curled upward as her husky voice sang utter music, nearly growling, "Hello, Draco."

And the stiffness of his trousers wasn't unexpected. Merlin, this witch and her undeniable sexiness. Mere words and the movement of her body firing deep in his groin.

Theo passed out their shots as the third was poured, lofting his high. "To the birthday girl!"

"To the birthday girl!"

"To me!"

Draco closed his eyes, letting the smooth feel of an Ogden's 20-year coat the walls of his throat. But nearly choked when a firm hand took ahold of his manhood. He had to stifle a groan as her hand groped before it slid up his chest. Nails scraping against his collarbone, fingers cupping his neck and tugging lightly.

"This was fun while it lasted," Hermione purred, her lips brushing against Draco and Theo's ears as she drove nails against their scalps. "But I don't want to wait any longer."

They'd have to thank Ginny Zabini for taking their wife out tonight for her birthday. For letting her let loose before coming here to act as if they'd never met. To find each other in a crowded club like strangers. 

Because Draco and his husband were going to make one of their wife's deepest fantasies come true tonight: three strangers, one bed, one night of unmitigated passion.

Because what the Valkyrie wanted, the Valkyrie always got.

"Take me home, husbands."


	4. His Poem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days prompt: Coffee Shop.
> 
> I didn't edit it too much so forgive any weird words.

"You can do this! It's so good!"

"Are you sure, Jess? It's -"

"Good. It is perfect. All of those people are here to listen to you read because they love your work."

Hermione merely nodded, anxiety rippling in her gut. Where was her courage? She was a war heroine, for Merlin's sake. She fought against the evilest wizard of noted British wizarding history. She cracked mysteries that older wizards and witches couldn't possibly fathom. And now her book was a nearly instant classic.

And yet, her gut churned at the idea of walking out from behind the makeshift curtain to face a crowded shop and read an excerpt to people who actually _purchased_ her work.

Loud murmuring saturated the tiny shop, and she bounced from foot to foot, shaking the energy overwhelming her body out through her fingertips as Jess disappeared.

"Alright," Jess drawled into a small public announcement system that hummed lightly with static undertones. "Thanks for coming out!" A choir of claps. "I know it's a bit tight, but we are so thrilled we could host so many. Just don't tell code enforcement." Sonorus laughter erupted, and it sounded as if 700 people stood crammed into the tiny coffee shop.

"I won't speak long - but I do have to say how proud I am of our author today. I've watched her sit over there in that corner, working on her book until I had to kick her out. More times than I can count, honestly. And I am humbled she chose here to do the first reading on her tour."

Hermione had to stifle the tears from slipping down her cheeks as another layer of clapping saturated the air.

"It is my sincere pleasure to introduce Armi G. Greenhorne."

She inhaled deeply, plastered a contented smile on her lips, and stepped from behind the curtain to a chorus of applause, which did nothing to calm her. Jess offered her a hand, which she shook willingly before he pulled her into a hug.

"You've got this," he murmured before squeezing her shoulder and disappearing behind the curtain.

"Wow," she started, scanning the room as she stepped up to a mic that was a little too tall. "I am thrilled that so many of yo-"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat, eyes widening as they settled on a pale head of hair she hadn't seen in nearly three years. Since the end of the war that he helped stop. Draco Malfoy. _Draco Malfoy_. Merely sitting at a hightop table, one foot hiked on the top bar of his stool, eyes glued to her as he pulled a reusable cup of coffee to his lips. He nodded once, a finger on his free hand whirling lightly to encourage her to continue.

"I… I," Hermione started again, shaking her head lightly and scanning the expectant faces of the rest of her audience, clearing her throat. "Sorry about that. A bit nervous."

The crowd merely chuckled, their bright and encouraging expressions finally serving to reassure her a touch.

"I'm so overjoyed that so many of you could make it tonight," she spoke, eyes settling on Malfoy again. "It's truly a surprise. And I won't speak too long to keep you waiting. I'll be reading one poem today - one that is rather raw for me. So bare with me."

The room went quiet, the static hum of the microphone the only noise as she slipped open the worn copy of her book. She'd planned to read the first page - it was simple, light. But the grey irises that seared heat up her neck made her flip to a later page.

A deep sigh, eyes scanning the words once before she began to read.

_There's nothing wrong with me_

_But against this marble floor_   
_A madness settling some unspoken score_   
_I feel dirty to my core_   
_Like a rage of filth in a never-ending downpour_

_But I'm loyal, I refuse to break_   
_Held down by a madness I cannot escape_   
_Hate etched deep into my hardened skin_   
_As if the blessing of my existence is a sin_

_I watch you scrutinizing me_   
_As white whirls into a red sea_   
_And it's so striking to see_   
_You realize there's nothing wrong with me_

_There's nothing wrong with me_

It was quiet for a moment, Hermione unable to remove her eyes from her own text. But as she lifted them, they settled onto the one person she wanted to ignore.

His lips were separated, a somewhat shocked expression on his features as the crowd's claps roared to life again.

"Thank you. I'll be over there if you want to chat," Hermione nearly whispered into the microphone, pointing to the table in the corner before scurrying behind the curtain.

Jess congratulated her with a firm hug, a thin line of proud tears in his eyes. And the packed house seemed to converge on her table, an endless stream of smiling people offering her well wishes and asking for autographs. She found herself scanning the crowd for those pale silver locks like anywhere as the crowd slowly thinned - but they never showed.

Maybe she'd gotten it wrong. Perhaps she should have stuck with the first poem. It was safe. It was comfortable. it wasn't -

"Ms. Greenhorne," a thick, familiar draw sounded, her eyes snapping up from where they'd been scanning his poem again.

She hesitated for a moment, mouth going dry as it hung slightly open. "Malfoy… hi."

"May I buy you a coffee?"

"How about a pint?"


	5. Woodland Nymph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days, Prompt 5: Auror.
> 
> Only partly edited but also I might make this a real story.

Draco growled deeply, swatting the swarm of gnats that whizzed about his sweat-soaked head.

Six hours.

He'd been walking through this gods-forsaken forest for over six hours, his Auror garb doing little to stave the heat. Entering when the late summer sun sank below the horizon, he'd walked for hours, finding and losing what he thought was a trail countless times. A nagging suspicion began to form over an hour ago that this weekend would be no different - that he'd traipse through these woods until dawn without a single glimpse at a woman he hadn't seen in ten years.

She'd disappeared into the night without a trace after the Battle of Hogwarts. Some claimed they saw her ride off on the back of a Centaur, curls flowing as they rallied behind her. Others said she merely walked into the woods, dropping her wand where the forest met planes without a backward glance. Theories spread wide when she never returned, her disappearance making the front page of the prophet for nearly three years.

Draco had been searching for her since that day, excelling through Auror training and imploring Potter to allow him to lead her missing person case. Enduring unending treks through the Forbidden Forest, days turning into weeks turning into years without a hint of her whereabouts.

Until a pair of sixth years decided the depths of the thick, towering trees was an adequate place for a hasty snog. They'd seen a woman walking alone: long curls, nude, with an etheric glow. She sang a tune they could describe only as hypnotic, transcendent. Both had submitted memories of the night, but the instant their eyes settled on a figure in the distance, everything went black.

That had been a year ago almost to the day, and he'd spent every weekend in the forest since—a renewed sense of vigor trying to sate his budding disappointment.

He trekked for an hour more before utter exhaustion set in, no rest threatening illusions in his peripherals. It was nearly four in the morning before he pulled out a familiar, worn purple beaded bag and called forth his tent.

He tried to sleep; he truly did. His body was exhausted, eyes falling shut the moment his head hit the worn fluff that claimed to be a pillow.

But an alluring melody echoed through the trees making Draco's eyes snap open rapidly. He scoured for his wand in a frenzy, clamoring to his feet and racing from the tent without a second thought. Trying to calm his racing heart, he vaulted toward the tune, bare feet crunching leaves and jagged rocks as he ran.

He wasn't sure if it was the sight of her or the sprinting, but he was utterly breathless.

She sat on a thick, moss-covered, downed tree trunk, a foot dangling and rippling tiny waves in a quiet lake. Plants in the etheric clearing in which she rested seemed to blow in an imaginary breeze. Draco could swear the vibrations of her voice were visible, echoing off glistening tree leaves, budding flowers, and billowing plants. 

He wasn't sure how he'd stepped further into the clearing, but when her gaze turned to his, he stopped in his tracks, toes kissing the shoreline.

Her eyes appeared to shine with deeper honey than the last time he saw her, nearly glittering in the low light. Her bare skin held a soft tan with no lines delineating clothing worn at any point. Vines of flowers weaved through her curls, now brushing her hips, and where she should have looked dirty, she merely looked etheric.

He tried desperately to tear his eyes away, but they lingered on her thrown back head, her lips moving and refreshing his ears with words he couldn't understand.

"You've come to my forest," her melodious tone sang about the clearing, words finally clear and bouncing off the leaves and his skin.

She seemed to float as she stood, stepping over the lake as if walking down invisible stairs. White silk shimmered to life about her frame, draping loosely as her foot met earth.

"The Centaurs have told me of your trials."

Suddenly she was before him, her honey eyes shining, golden flakes sparkling in her irises. Her hand lifted to his cheek, a soft smile playing on her pale, plump lips as her fingers grazed his skin. Her caress felt like pure magic, fluttering gooseflesh across his entire figure.

"You are written in the stars, just as I."

He tried to move. Anything. To press his cheek into her palm. To lift a hand to feel her wild curls. To encircle his arms about her waist and hold her as he had all those years ago. But he was frozen- none of his limbs moved like he so desperately wished.

"But this is not our year."

She pressed onto the tips of her toes, and when her lips pillowed lightly against his, everything went white. He couldn't see her, but he could feel her presence. He couldn't touch her but could smell the cinnamon that her hair always smelled of in school.

And just as suddenly as it all began, his eyes startled open to the bright sun as he laid in his sleeping bag.

He knew he'd seen her. He knew why he stood in that clearing and what voice had led him there. But it all felt like a dream. Like he'd been sleepwalking, and none of it was real.

But he could hear her voice echoing in his mind that it wasn't their year.

And he'd be back - one year from now and every year after. Back to this forest, and this clearing. Back to Hermione until it was their year.


	6. Little Suspensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days Prompt 7: National No Bra Day!
> 
> This one is a bit saucy. :)

Hermione sighed, slumping further against the marble counter as she pulled a cup of tea to her lips.

Six years.

She and Ron had dated for six happy years, until just a month ago. Laughing. Arguing. Loving. But not " _in loving_ " as her mother so eloquently labeled it. Hermione couldn't disagree. She loved Ron with all of her heart, but she loved him how she loved Harry - a best friend without whom she could never live.

He concurred when they spoke. They both knew it. What they had shared would never fade, but they couldn't keep striving for a deeper connection that would never form.

"I just want you to be happy, Granger," a dangerous drawl echoed.

Hermione glanced up from the lukewarm liquid in her hands to meet the deep crystal gaze of Draco Malfoy sitting at his kitchen table.

"Whoever you're with, I want them to make you feel whole. And it doesn't appear as though Weasley was that person."

He never broke her regard, and she could hear the faint rushing of blood as it invaded her ears. Not uncommon when he was near.

Everything about the man before her set her nerves aflame. The soft, never overpowering fragrance of citrus and sandalwood as he hugged her. The steady feel of his chest as her head rested against it, held firmly in his arms. The sheer dominance of his stature as he engulfed her, easily a head and a half taller.

His nearly silent laugh when he found something utterly mirthful. The smirk he wore when he recognized she was right in an argument but couldn't quit riling her up. The conversations they had, face to face, via owl, and even over the phone. His dedication to his job at the DMLE and desire to improve wizarding society.

The smile as he held his son in his arms, face littered with pride at the combination of he and his late wife's genes.

Everything about him made her fall more " _in loving_ " with him every time they spoke. Every time he forced all of the air from her lungs.

They'd been friends for five years, after a somewhat contentious start to his and Ron's partnership. She was the one to extend the first olive branch, inviting him and Astoria over for dinner one Friday evening.

They became quick friends shortly after, a very heartfelt apology and a shower of rare manuscripts their first real conversation. Even the bickering of how she couldn't be bought had encouraged their friendship to flourish.

"What if it's you?" she whispered. "What if the person who makes me most feel alive, the happiest, is you?"

He didn't respond, apparent shock forming over his expression—eyes widening and driving pure uncertainty into Hermione's gut. Merlin, maybe she had been wrong. Perhaps it was one-sided. Maybe coming here tonight to tell him she loved him had been the absolute worst idea she'd ever concocted.

But it was too late now.

"What if I wish to wake next to you? And lay beside you reading before falling asleep in your arms? What if the one that I think of as I fall asleep, who I dream of, and who I first think of when I wake is you? What if I look into the future, and all I can see for sure is that you are there?"

His face shifted from bewilderment to intrigue, and back to shock as she spoke. But the slow-building determination she saw forming as he stood made her hands tremble slightly.

Draco was before her in a heartbeat, his aura kissing hers as he slipped the cup of tea from her hands. And before she could react, he lifted her effortlessly, placing her on the counter.

A finger under her chin, one hand sliding up her thigh to her hip. And his lips were on hers. Softly at first, a sweet dance of skin as her hands shakily sought his grey tee-shirt. It wasn't lewd or obscene—just a somewhat passionate first kiss between two unlikely lovers.

She pulled back slightly, scanning his features with questioning eyes. "Draco…"

A subdued groan rumbled in his throat, and his hands tightened on her hips. She felt the force of his desire as he drew her forward and pillowed his lips back to hers in a searing, feverish kiss - tongue not asking for permission before it dipped between her lips and danced against hers.

The heat of his hands roaming her back, her sides, her soul, was purely tantalizing. Warmth pooled between her thighs, that he forced open, stepping further into her. Moans passed back and forth as he ground himself against her center.

But before she had enough, he pulled back wearing a broader grin than she'd seen in years.

"I cannot say how relieved I am that you finally said it."

Hermione laughed a bit breathlessly. "You… you knew?"

"Little suspicions. Your eyes spoke the words you never did."

"So did yours!"

"Highly unlikely," he scoffed light-heartedly, lips forming a devious smirk. "I am in complete control of my emotions, unlike you."

"Ha!" Hermione mocked. "Even Ron said he could see it! You never hid those damned doe eyes you'd give me when you were drunk."

"The real question here, Granger, is: no bra?" He snickered at her flush, gliding his hands along her back to grip her hips. "What precisely were you expecting to happen tonight?"

"Bras are instruments of the patriarchy, don't flatter yourself."

"I'll show you a real instrument of the patriarchy," he smirked, and with a soft pop, the kitchen was vacant.


	7. Lion Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hastily written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days Prompt: Halloween.
> 
> This one is rated M.

"You know, Granger," a deep, delicious voice drawled from beside her in the quiet hallway where she awaited the loo, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand straight. "Most lion hunts in the desert end in failure."

Hermione glanced sideways, the lion ears perched atop her unruly mane of curls twitching as her sights settled upon none other than Draco Malfoy. 

It was Halloween, and for the fourth year straight, they were packed into the humble Potter's sitting room, in full costume, with what appeared to be the rest of British wizard-kind. Though, this year was undoubtedly rowdier. No one was pregnant, all young children were gleefully with their grandparents, and everyone - everyone - was celebrating.

It was hardly past 10:00 p.m., and Ron was already passed out on the couch, Harry not fairing much better. Ginny and Hannah were seven firewhiskeys in, sharing photos of their children as if they weren't aunts to one another's offspring. Blaise was likely somewhere trying to convince anyone to go home with him, and Millie and Gregory had already left, wrapped in one another's arms, likely headed home to make another little Goyle.

And Draco - standing beside her with a salacious, nearly cocky smirk that she wished she didn't adore.

"I am aware, Malfoy."

His liquor-laced, deep chuckle rippled gooseflesh along her exposed arms. "Of course you are. But did you know that we snakes are a bit more precise?"

Hermione merely rolled her eyes, looking away, and drawing her drink to her lips to stop herself from biting the lower one.

"We wait. We watch."

Wait, alright - over four painstaking years of it. Four years of torture as Draco hugged her, hands low on her back as he bent his to nuzzle his face against her neck. Of soaked knickers as they sat together on the couch, his fingers working along her arms and neck. Of presents and gifts, and late nights spent reading in his library. Of kisses to her cheek and dancing together at every Ministry function.

"We learn our prey."

His fingers ghosted deftly along her arm, gliding to massage the junction of her jaw and neck gently. She tried not to lean into it, into him. But he knew her. Unquestionably. Unequivocally. Knew where to touch her to make her stop breathing. Knew the books that kept her mind most entranced and what causes she loved the most.

"Sometimes, we even enlist our friends to help us."

"He told you," she murmured, leaning her head slightly away and opening herself to him once again.

"Of course he told me, Granger. Blaise is my best mate," he huffed a delighted chuckle, leaning in and brushing his nose against the sensitive flesh near her ear. "When you moan my name during a nap at your desk, what do you expect?"

"He could have kept his mouth shut."

"I'm so pleased he didn't."

"Pleased?" She scoffed, inhaling shakily and shrugging out from his touch, stepping away. "As if you care."

"I care more than you know."

"Bull-"

The loo door opened then, Pansy Parkinson stumbling out, wiping her mouth. She looked pale but merely grinned, walking past them and out toward the raucous party.

"I've waited for years for you to admit you fancy me, Granger."

Hermione's knitted brows turned back to his. "I -"

"And I'm tired of waiting."

Was it the liquor? Or the look on his face? Or the four years of pent up tension? She didn't know. And she didn't care. Because the feel of his lips on hers was like the first warm, Spring sunshine after a long, cold, dreary Winter. His hands sought her hips in a flash, his grasp firm on her arse as he lifted her effortlessly from the floor. She wrapped her legs about him as he stumbled somewhat blindly into the loo, slamming the door behind them.

Merlin, it was better than she ever imagined. Frantic, yes. Desperate, yes. But warm. Caring. Passionate.

He wasted no time setting her down before the mirror, and she let herself relish the look of pure desire on his face. And when Hermione sank her teeth into her lower lip, Draco appeared to lose all control. His hand, warm and gentle, pressed her torso toward the sink, and her cunt throbbed. Fabric ripped, zippers sang, and he hardly made time to push her knickers aside before the tip of his manhood slid between her folds.

She watched his eyes in the mirror fall closed in concentration as he withdrew and pressed back into her slowly. Deliberately. Until her moans swelled the room, and he appeared to relinquish control to a carnal, primal need.

She came quickly, her hand slapping against the mirror as her fingers trembled, trying to clutch their reflection. And when Draco's grip on her hips turned nearly painful, he groaned, leaning down and wrapping his arms about her body as his movements slowed.

No words were spoken, only careful glances. Soft kisses. And before Hermione knew, her world was spinning, and she landed in the one room she'd craved him in for years—his library.


	8. Naughty Neighbor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days, Prompt: Neighbors
> 
> I wanna make this one an M but the muse tells me no more.

"I swear on Merlin's saggy left testicle!"

The raucous thump of bass beating against Hermione's adjoining wall, and the absolute last strain of her patience, knocked another picture from its thin nail. The frame fell to the floor with a thud, the continually cast shatterproof charms luckily holding against gravity. The wooden frame echoed against the baseboard, the vibrations of tonight's music rippling the walls. A sticking charm was slowly becoming the last viable option.

"Hermione, we have to say something."

Hermione groaned, throwing the book she uselessly held onto the vacant cushion beside her knees. "I don't know what else I can do. I've phoned the landlord -"

"And clearly that isn't working," Ginny growled. "You know I like to party and drink as much as the next star Quidditch Chaser, but this is ridiculous."

"I'll Floo Bill in the morning. Perhaps he can come cast a permanent noise cancelling -" 

"Then we can't hear anyone knocking! Hermione, this is your flat," Ginny punctuated with a deep scowl and a pointer finger toward Hermione's chest. "Go over there! It won't stop until you say something. You're the only two on this floor. Woman up!"

"They'll turn -"

"It's Wednesday, Hermione! They haven't turned the bloody music off since they moved in Friday night!"

Hermione jerked with annoyance, throwing her hands up in irritation. "You go, then, Ginny!"

"I've been waiting for you to ask!" Ginny grinned positively mischievously as she rose suddenly. 

"Ginny!" Hermione scrabbled, nearly tumbling over the blanket wrapped about her legs. "Ginny, no! No!"

"Too late, you said!"

Hermione fumbled to her feet, searching frantically yet fruitlessly for either her wand or a pair of house shoes as her red-headed flatmate threw open their front door. She was gone in a blaze of auburn, and within seconds, Hermione heard the rapid pounding of fists upon wood.

"Oy! Open up, you wankers!"

"For Godric's sake," Hermione grumbled, resigning herself to nearly sheer sleep shirt and shorts to haul Ginny back home.

She skidded through the door into the corridor beyond, curls bouncing as she raced to her new neighbor's door. Ginny rose a leg to try and hold Hermione off, shoving one palm straight against her forehead, the other still raging against its noisy barrier.

And honestly, Hermione wasn't sure which of them gave up first as the door swung open, loud music blaring as their jaws and limbs dropped.

Standing shirtless with a towel around his neck, one pale, lifted eyebrow, and a half-cocky grin was Draco Malfoy. A sweaty, toned - no, chiseled - sharp, scruff-lined jawed, near Adonis. His lips slowly shifted into a full-blown smirk as he dabbed edges of his towel up his neck to his forehead.

"Weaselette," he began, eyes roaming down Ginny's figure and then gradually up Hermione's, making her insides flutter frantically. "Granger."


	9. Naughty Neighbor, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so some folks asked for this to be continued. It's going to be a 4 part Drabble. Seems like that crosses into fic territory but 🤷♀️

Hermione's eyes snapped wide, breathes short as her heart pounded lightly. Again. For the fourth morning in a row, she'd awoken covered in a cold sweat with a pleasurable ache between her thighs.

All because of Draco Bloody Malfoy, her new neighbor.

Long-term, by the sound of it. He'd bought the flat next door - wasn't merely renting like she'd pleaded with the Gods as her eyes had scanned his chest the week prior. His chiseled, scarred torso that still seemed to shine like moonlight as sweat rolled down it.

After both she and Ginny's faculties had returned, the redhead had negotiated a truce. He'd agreed to keep the music low for most of the night, but he fancied listening to it loudly while he and Blaise freaking Zabini, who now evidently resembled an Italian God, worked out. They'd all agreed, and Hermione hoped it would be the last she'd have to see him.

Wrong. Although Hermione hadn't laid eyes on Draco once during the first five days since his arrival, she couldn't escape him now. Meetings at the mailbox. Somehow magically arriving home from work at the same time every day. Riding the lift up together while attempting not to gawk at how utterly fit he looked in three-piece suits. Trying to ignore the way his eyes scanned her legs when she wore a pencil skirt.

And apparently, her subconscious held more in mind than being just aloof neighbors with the man who'd taken her first kiss. And her first time. And her heart.

Hermione thrust her covers off, the time between waking and her alarm not conducive to falling back asleep. Leaving even earlier this morning might be advantageous, she thought as she showered quickly. He'd still be getting ready, or eating, or doing whatever it was that Adonises did in the morning. She would take any excuse today to escape to the Ministry without a hum deep in her core.

She readied quickly, grabbed an apple from their fruit dish, and headed out the door. She eyed the lift skeptically, opting for a total change of routine by taking the stairs.

But it didn't matter.

She was easily thirty minutes earlier than her typical departure time, and he was _already at the front desk_ , chuckling with Edgar, the elderly doorman. A smile on his face that lit the entire room. Wearing a suit that hugged every fit curve of his biceps. Hair coiffed perfectly.

Hermione groaned internally, prying her eyes away from the only man she'd ever found herself daydreaming about. Trying to duck her head in hiding, Hermione shuffled quickly toward the door.

"Granger, wait up," his voice echoed within the quiet lobby, halting her movement just as she thought she'd evaded him. "I'll see you tomorrow, Edgar."

"Good luck, young man," Edgar grinned with a wink.

He was beside her in a moment, a wall of his sandalwood and citrus cologne hitting her senses like a ton of bricks, drawing memory deep from her subconscious. He nodded with a quiet good morning as he held open the door, beckoning her through.

"I thought we could walk to the Ministry together this morning, Granger. I have a meeting."

"Yeah, okay, sure," she stammered slightly, hating the fast pace pounding of her heart. She was _Hermione Jean Fucking Granger_. He was just a _boy_ she'd spent nearly her entire eighth year with.

But a glance to the side, taking in his soft expression as they strolled, did nothing to calm her. Merlin, no, he was a _man_ now. Eight years out from under his parents and the constant nag of publicity had truly done him well. She could see the strain of the war written around his eyes, but more so, she could see the happiness his life had held since.

They walked for a time in uncomfortable silence before he turned to her with a smirk as they came upon the Ministry guest entrance. "Say, Granger. You and Red busy tonight?"

"Uh… no. I mean, no. I don't know about Ginny. I'm busy."

"So, you're not busy but busy?" He chuckled, and the sound echoed a new wave of memories.

"Yes."

"Well, if your schedule does find itself open, Blaise and I are attending the opening of a new pub. We're leaving around 8:00."

"I'll pass along the invite to Gin, but I -"

"You're busy not busy, I understand," he smirked, opening the phone booth door. "Have a wonderful day, Granger."

"You can go first."

"Oh, I've no need to go down."

Hermione lifted an eyebrow in question. "You said you have a meeting at the Ministry."

"Incorrect. I said I would like to walk with you to the Ministry and that I had a meeting." He winked, stepping back somewhat. "I'll see you tonight, Granger."

And with a soft pop in their vacant alleyway, he was gone.


	10. Naughty Neighbor, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here's part 3. Can't decide if I want the next chapter to be two-some or four-some. 👀

"All I've heard about since eighth year is Draco this, Malfoy that! We're going!"

Hermione groaned from her bed, watching Ginny pace back and forth throughout her room with a mocking grin. "I have _not_ gone on about him!"

"Every time you get drunk, Hermione. Every. Time! And you talk in your sleep! Moan, too," Ginny chortled as Hermione's entire face tinted crimson.

"You're failing spectacularly at convincing me that I actually want to go! The exact opposite, really. Certainly not to a pub if all I talk about is Malfoy every time I drink."

"It's tough luck because I've already told him we would go. They'll be here at 8:00."

"Ginny!"

She shrugged with a facetious smirk. "He cornered me in the lift on the way up. Said he knew we were busy, but he and Blaise would be delighted if we'd accompany them."

"Bloody schemer…" Hermione mumbled, knowing full well Draco had likely waited for Ginny to come home to ambush her.

"I told him we weren't busy and that we'd be happy to."

"Ginny, I just… I don't want to go."

"Who would have known that a thoroughly handsome man that she'd already slept with moving in next door was the only thing that could make Hermione Granger lose all her courage."

Ginny strolled toward the bedroom door, spinning once she stepped into the hallway to offer Hermione yet another mocking smirk. Hermione merely rolled her eyes. "I know what you're doing, Ginny, and it won't work. You can't taunt me into going out tonight."

"No, certainly not. But I can taunt you _just enough_ so that you won't stop thinking about it," Ginny grinned, taking hold of the doorknob and slowly closing the door until just a sliver of space remained between it and its frame. With a deep chortle, the redhead added, "Hermione Granger, romantic coward."

The door clicked shut quickly, drowning out Ginny's laugh as a pillow thudded against the wood. Hermione groaned, laying back in her bed and flailing petulant against the mattress. And as if on queue, a resounding thump of bass slapped against her wall.

Fucking, _of course_ , they'd work out before they left to drink all night. Who wouldn't?

Hermione summoned the pillow she'd just tossed and laid it over her head, trying to drown out the music and the images of a half-naked Draco Malfoy working out however wizards managed in small flats. Sweating. Grunting. Flexed.

Hermione groaned anew, crushing the pillow tighter to her face as she squeezed her thighs shut. She shouldn't be such a coward. _She'd_ walked away from _him_. He'd practically begged her to stay. To let what had been hidden a secret for their entire eighth year free into the universe.

And she'd walked away.

Stupidly. Utterly foolish. No man or woman had been the same since. None could compare to the quiet intelligence he held. Or the snarky humor that slipped out at just the right time to make a room laugh. To make her laugh when everything else felt bleak.

She'd kicked herself for years. Had cried more times than she could count. But he'd disappeared. Even his mother had had little idea of where he'd vanished to. Until he had turned up just last year on the front page of the Prophet with a blonde slag on his arm and a happy smile.

It had hurt, but she hadn't cried. Because it was her fault for walking away.

And now he lived next door, all smiles and holding the door open. Peacefully agreeing to keep his music down. Walking her to work. Inviting her out on a Friday night to a pub.

Like nothing had changed.

_Like nothing had changed…_

Hermione straight spine-straight in her bed, mouth open in slight astonishment. She had to be imagining it. He couldn't be offering some odd olive branch back to them just because he moved in next door? Could he? Certainly not. He had a girlfriend, last she knew.

But there was only one way to find out.

Hermione fumbled off the bed, pacing to her bedroom door, and threw it open with vigor. "Ginny! I need to borrow clothes!"

The redhead's gleeful laugh lingered as Hermione hurriedly got ready. Shit, shower, and shave, so they say. And by the time 7:55 p.m. rolled around, she and Ginny were impatiently waiting by their front door for a knock.

A knock that came at precisely 8:00 p.m., making her gut flutter with anxious excitement. A dangerous duo of ebony and ivory stood on the other side as Hermione pulled open the door, two deep voices echoing as it swung to a stop.

"Granger."

"Red."

The richness of their greeting nearly made both she and Ginny giggle like school girls. No man should ever legally be allowed to be so drop-dead handsome. Let alone two men. Living together. Next bloody door.

Hermione felt her bottom lip pull between her teeth as she scanned Draco from fancy trainers to fitted black jeans. From a nearly too tight tee-shirt around thoroughly fit biceps to creamy skin and a chiseled, scruff-lined jaw. To a wide smirk, glossy, piercing grey eyes, and raised, heated eyebrow.

Sucking in the breath that had stalled in her chest, Hermione averted her slightly embarrassed gaze to Blaise with a swift nod.

"Shall we?"


	11. Naughty Neighbor, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the last part of this 4-psrt Drabble. We'll just label this one E. Enjoy!

Glittering lights. Witches and wizards packed into half-moon booths that faced a stage currently commanded by a half-naked, undeniably beautiful Pansy Parkinson as she danced a sensual burlesque. Bottomless apple martinis. And the best of all: a familiar, mesmerizing smirk on a man that Hermione had long ago lost hope of loving.

"Admit it," Draco chuckled drunkenly, half-lidded eyes lazily studying her features. "You're glad you came."

"I will not. And I haven't come yet," Hermione replied, calculatedly, biting her lower lip before wrapping her tongue around her drink's straw, pulling it between her teeth.

Surprise overtook his features for a moment, but he recouped hastily, a husky chuckle reverberating over the faint club music. He scooted closer, sliding an arm around her waist to draw her in. "You're still so dangerous, Granger."

"When you said you were attending the opening of a pub, I didn't expect… this," she snickered, waving a hand out over a drunken crowd currently enthralled with the pub's main attraction - an erotic cabaret.

"I have on good authority that you're enjoying yourself. I saw how you watched the way Theo moved." He leaned in slowly, his fingers tightening against her hip, and the want that rushed to her core was unmistakable. "And Daphne."

"She was tantalizing."

"As was he," Draco whispered, using his free hand to brush her curls behind her shoulder.

Hermione had to overfill her lungs with air to keep from squeezing her thighs together for the nth time that evening. She'd expected an awkwardness after everything that had transpired between them.

But, no. Draco had been an absolute gentleman, and the little touches he'd scattered throughout the night had driven her crazy. The feel of his hand on her back at the bar had been electric. His arm lying across the booth behind her head and his lazy fingers toying with loose curls had been charming. The knee he'd pressed against hers, the genuine smile he'd worn, and the effortless tone of his laugh had been utterly extraordinary.

Merlin, everything about him had driven her positively mad.

"But neither held a candle to you."

Hermione giggled, truly giggled, wriggling in his grasp. "I haven't done a thing."

The clutch on her hip was like pure ecstasy as it tightened, stilling her. But it paled in comparison to the warmth of his breath and the gentle caress of his nose against her neck. Daphne hadn't been tantalizing - this was purely tantalizing.

"You've done everything." Whispered declarations upon her skin before his lips pressed delicately against her throat, making her shiver. "Do you know how it felt to open my door to you? To someone that I thought I'd never be able to see again? In those bloody see-through pajamas, no less?"

"I'm…" her voice cracked. "I'm certain I know how it felt."

His lips vanished, and the warmth of his palm gliding along her frame felt like a trail of flame, a burning desire alighting her nerves as Draco cupped Hermione's neck. His thumb slid deliberately along her jaw and gently nudged her chin toward his.

He gave her _the_ moment - the split second of doubt in his eyes as they flitted from hers to her lips and back. Pleading with her to not stop him. Praying for permission. And the flutter of her eyes and opening of her lips had been all the invitation he'd needed.

Draco's lips against hers felt like coming home to a place that Hermione had forgotten she'd felt most alive. Most comforted. Most loved. His hand trembled against her cheek, a soft roll of lips quickly growing frantic.

"Draco…" she whispered, pushing on his chest. He groaned, and the fervor of his next kiss made her whole body vibrate with need. She melted into it until the desire thumping behind her navel grew too great. "Draco - "

"Don't ask me to stop," he murmured, pulling back as his grip tightened around her neck possessively. Deliciously. "Please, don't ask me to stop, Granger. This is all I've dreamt of since you left me in our common room eighth year. You. Us. And not just sex. Everything. Reading together. Studying together. Teaching you how to ride a broom properly. Us at your parents' house for Christmas…

Hermione, this is all I've ever wanted. You are all I ever wanted."

Merlin, she couldn't resist forcing herself into him, encircling her arms about his neck. She didn't care if anyone saw the way she kissed him - desperate and pleading. Not right now. Not when every fantasy that she'd concocted since their split was coming to life.

"I was going to ask you to take me home, Draco. To bed."

Apparition inside wasn't technically illegal, but most people frowned upon it. But Draco knew the owner, and she was certain Theo would applaud the way his fingers gripped her arse and wand, popping them from the pub with a faint rush of magic.

She didn't remember tumbling through the door or taking off their clothes. But she did remember the feel of his teeth on her nipple. The pleasurable circles his fingers pressed on her clit. The warmth of her lips wrapped around his tip.

All incomparable to the fullness of being connected with him in a way she'd so thoroughly missed. It was hot. Heavy. Utterly thrilling - furious yet crammed with the same passion that had once traced each of their interactions. It didn't last long, but it hadn't needed to.

By the time her fingers clutched his back and her quivering yet taut toes pointed toward the heavens, his soft groan of release was echoing beside hers. He rolled off long minutes later, pulling her into him and nuzzling deep into her curls.

"The only thing I truly can't figure out is how you knew I'd left early this morning," Hermione murmured fingers tracing patterns on the arm slug over her middle.

"I can hear your shower and sink run. My bedroom is right there," he laughed dazedly, pointing gracelessly at their adjoining wall. "Pipes are rather loud in this building."

"What? Then why can I not hear you shower?"

"I shower when you do in the mornings. And after workouts, the music -"

"The bloody _music_!"


	12. Muff Dive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days Prompt: Hogsmeade or a pub visit
> 
> Alright, I tried my hand at some humor 🤷♀️. Draco takes a dive and Neville catches him.

Neville Longbottom had undoubtedly been in countless hairy, surprising predicaments in his lifetime.

The disastrous broom lesson and fainting in herbology in his first year.

Being frozen on the common room floor because he attempted to stop his friends from sneaking out and losing more house points.

Hanging from the DADA classroom ceiling because of stray Cornish Pixies.

Nearly killing Harry Potter with Gillyweed.

Fifth year, full stop.

But practically none of that surpassed the shock of rounding a shop corner to see Draco Malfoy's face buried so deep in Hermione Granger's muff it appeared he couldn't breathe.

Well, technically, based on the smoke puffing from his nostrils and the quick upward pump of his fingers, he was clearly breathing. Certainly alive. And Hermione was unquestionably relishing his efforts, melted against the shop's stone facade, eyes closed, brow furrowed in a pleasurable concentration, and a hand clamped over her mouth.

But by the way her hand, fingers laced through his pale blonde locks, clutched and pulled him close, it appeared as though he couldn't breathe.

Merlin, he should look away. No, he should say something! Should stop them. They were professors, for Godric's sake! They were meant to have a moral standard elevated enough to teach children. Not to be depraved enough to have a quick muff dive in the middle of an alleyway, in the snow, while they were chaperoning the first Hogsmeade trip of the year.

Neville made to say something as Hermione's hand unthreaded from Malfoy's hair and smacked against the wall behind her, but the reprimand caught in his throat. Who was he now to ruin someone's pleasure? Seventh year had opened his eyes. A burning Sorting Hat atop his head had made him recognize that enjoying life was worth it. That life was shorter than one could ever fathom, so if one could find Luna and drag her into a burning, abandoned classroom for a quick, desperate shag, one should do so.

With a silent huff of both approval and revulsion, Neville withdrew his wand as a muffled mewl slipped past the hand covering Hermione's mouth. He cast a quick Notice-Me-Not charm and a silencing spell, and with a mirthful chuckle, turned and headed for The Three Broomsticks for a Butte - no, definitely something stronger than a Butterbeer.

* * *

"Hello, Neville," Hermione's cheery voice rang as she slid into the chair opposite him.

Neville had to pinch his leg underneath the table to stop from laughing. Her hair was a mess, face more flushed than the cold and wind could produce, and she wore a wider smile than she had in many days. But when Malfoy appeared, dropping three bottles of Butterbeer onto the table and slumping into the seat beside Hermione with a crooked grin, he couldn't help himself. Laughter exploded from his lips even though he tried to contain it.

"Something funny, Longbottom?"

"Oh, I don't know, mate," Neville wheezed. "Take any dives recently?"

Hermione's Butterbeer sprayed across the table as her eyes slammed wide. Actions that only stoked the flames of Neville's mirth. Malfoy laughed with a satisfied grin, and Hermione back-handed his arm, face now the color of a ripe tomato.

"I did it for you this time, but perhaps take a second to cast a Notice-Me-Not next time."


	13. Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for DFFR 2.0 Drabble Days Prompt: trapped together.
> 
> Hastily written and unedited.

Trapped. Locked in a bloody cupboard with none other than Head Girl Hermione Granger. If eighth year hadn't been shit enough as it was, now he was trapped in a tiny, suffocating broom closet with the one person he couldn't stop himself from thinking about.

Hermione furiously jiggled the doorknob, withdrawing her wand to cast useless unlocking charms on the door. Draco had seen Peeve just moments before being shoved headfirst through the door, so no way in hell would her spells work. They'd have to wait until Peeve either got bored or someone wandered by outside.

"Malfoy," her voice echoed, low and laced with disdain. "I swear on Godric's good name if this is some sick joke -"

"Granger," Draco scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the dusty wall. "I wouldn't willingly trap myself in a cupboard. Why would you -"

She spun quickly, curls bouncing with pure rage, an echo of her expression. "Fuck you."

"No, thanks."

"Open the door, Malfoy. Runes class starts in five minutes!"

Fuck, she looked adorable. Angry, but just wholly precious. Wild curls sprayed around her face as she cocked her hip, planting her curled fists upon them. Her lip upturned just enough to show her anger, mirroring the knit of her brows. Carmel flakes in her eyes reflected the sun's rays that shined through the narrow cupboard windows.

She was utterly beautiful, just as she always had been. And Draco couldn't stop himself from staring. Again.

"Salazar forbid the Golden Girl be late for class."

"Don't call me that," Hermione hissed, taking a step toward him.

"What? Golden -"

"Don't call me that!" She exploded suddenly, her angry shout filling the small space. "I hate that name!"

"You hate when people call you -"

"Yes, I hate it! I don't want fame nor fortune. I don't want people stopping me in Diagon to take a picture with me. I'm not like Ronald," she spat the name, face scrunching like it left a foul taste in her mouth. "I don't want to be reminded day in and day out that people hated me for being born! That people still hate me, regardless of if the war is over. I'm not naive. You all just went back into hiding."

"You all?" He bit back, confused, but he could feel anger slowly rising.

"Yes, you all. All of you who had a problem with my blood."

Draco pushed off the wall, taking one side step toward her. She backed away for only a moment before determination etched over her expression as she straightened her shoulders. 

"You make it sound like you include me in that statement, Granger."

"Of course, I am!"

"I have no issues with you -"

"Bullshit, Malfoy!" she shouted, taking a step closer. She was small, head scarcely meeting his collarbone, but she was the most dominating force he'd ever seen. Gods, the determination in her eyes made her even more beautiful.

"You've been nothing but awful to me all year. From the train ride to right now, you've done nothing but taunt me! Winking at me in class."

Her hand lifted quickly, jabbing a finger into his chest with every word she spoke, chin rising to maintain eye contact. Each thump of her thin pointer in his chest pushed him a bit closer to breaking. 

"Brushing against me in the hallway when there is more than enough room."

Jab. 

"The whispers in the library with Zabini!"

Jab. 

"The staring!"

Jab. 

"The laughing!"

Jab. 

"All of it! All of it! You can't just leave prejudi -"

He wasn't sure how it had happened. How he moved so quickly, wrapping an arm around her waist and drawing her close. Didn't know when his hand had clutched her jaw or how their lips connected. But fuck, it was the best thing that had ever happened.

And when she kissed him back, he couldn't help himself. His hand shifted into her curls as hers fisted in his robes. It was fervent, much more passionate than he'd ever expected. She was demanding, her tongue forcing through his lips to dance against his. Her hands pulling him closer as they both whimpered.

By the time they pulled back, panting with angry expressions, he couldn't help but feel a roll of anxiety in his stomach.

"I don't have a problem with you."


	14. Birthday Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is E ;) 
> 
> Written for Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days Prompt: Post War
> 
> I also made this one 600 words even so that I reach my 300,000th word published on A03 by the end of the year. :)

"We're testing it tonight."

"Draco, no!" Hermione huffed, pulling on her knickers after her shower. "Not tonight. We are meeting too many people."

Draco's hands slid around her waist a moment later, gripping the junction of her legs and hips, purring, "And what a great time to test it, right?"

"I dis -"

"I've spent countless hours on this charm," he growled, grip tightened, making Hermione whimper. "Making sure it worked just right. You asked me for it. You asked for this."

"I did - but it's meant for just you and me."

"And it will be for just you and me. No one else has to know. You simply have to stay quiet."

"You know that's impossible," Hermione moaned as his hand smoothed over her mound. "I like to scream."

"Oh, I'm aware," he chuckled huskily. "But tonight is my birthday, and after what you had me do on yours last year, you owe me."

"You enjoyed that just as much as I did. Don't deny it."

"Oh, I don't," he murmured, circling concise and tantalizing strokes over her clothes apex. "And you'll enjoy this just as much as I will."

"You get no benefit from it..."

"Watching you squirm and your face flush is benefit enough for me. Bringing my witch pleasure is all I ever wish to do."

"Fine. But if it gets too… weird, you'll take it off."

"Deal, stand still," he smirked, pulling out his wand and running it slowly down her front before dipping it below her knickers to press against her clit. "Succusio," he whispered, the tip of his wand radiating a heat that settled heavily over her apex.

And she moaned as he pushed her forward until her chest hit his bed, and his manhood slid between her folds.

* * *

"Yes! Go, Wood! Kill'em!" Ron roared, banging his hand on the side of the box where they all sat at the Cannons versus Puddlemere Quidditch match.

The group was well and thoroughly rowdy, six hours of heavy drinking and overindulgence flushing everyone's faces. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Blaise all stood watching the match, Draco, Theo, Luna, Pansy, and Hermione relaxing on the sofas and enjoying the atmosphere. But there was one thing missing, and it seemed Draco's enchantment hadn't worked.

Though, the heat in his eyes as he sat opposite her listening to Pansy drone on about something made it evident he didn't care. He rolled his lips together, wetting them with a soft flick of his tongue before he winked, making Hermione flush. Gods, what that man did to her without even trying.

It was like her cunt hummed as he brought his whiskey to his lips, licking off the residual as he pulled it away. No… no, wait. Her cunt was humming. It was buzzing softly, a slow-building vibration rippling down her spine straight into her clit. Steadily increasing and making her slit gush.

Oh, fucking hell. Fuck.

This was amazing.

He'd done it! A simple spell that he could control, without having to actually touch her, to force patterned vibrations against her clit. He was absolutely brilliant. Even without touching her, just rolling his fingers together, running them along the rim of his tumbler, she could feel her cunt weeping with happiness.

Hermione slapped her hand against the table, Pansy's curious gaze snapping to hers. 

"Bug -" she muttered, trying desperately to hold in a moan behind gritted teeth.

Draco merely chuckled, running his hands together as the crowd broke into raucous cheer. And thank fuck for that, because her bliss ruptured in a relatively orgasmic cry that only Pansy seemed to notice.


	15. Friends Don't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for DFFR 2.0 prompt: "Friends don't look at each other the way they do"
> 
> I'm early posted because I know what the prompt is 🤣
> 
> And this one is kind of an angsty boi and will be continued in a Drabble for next week's prompt. Still unsure if HEA or not 🤣 a little mutual pining while both in other relationships.

Hermione sighed, glancing out over the 3 AM moonlit sea outside their rental's broad windows. She had undoubtedly needed a break from the slog of everyday life, so accepting Harry and Theo's invitation to a winter holiday in the sun had been a no brainer. Ron thought otherwise but had ultimately relented, which left them here, on a nearly remote island, with Harry, Theo, Blaise, Ginny, Astoria, and... Draco.

If Hermione had known the latter two were possible attendees, she might have skipped the trip entirely.

The soft creaking of the stairs echoed in the tiny sitting room. Hermione glanced up to see a blurry-eyed Draco nearing the bottom. When his eyes settled on her, he smirked lazily.

"Couldn't sleep?" His voice was groggy as he approached, movements sluggish. Still pissed then.

"Ron woke me up when he came in an hour ago. I couldn't get back to sleep. I'm sorry if I woke you."

He shook his head, and when he sank onto the couch, Hermione's heart nearly exploded. He'd collapsed into the cushion right beside her, scrunched so close together that their thighs were touching. In one fluid movement, he propped his feet onto the coffee table, threw his head back on the couch, and landed a hand on her pajama-cover thigh.

"You didn't. Couldn't sleep."

Hermione chuckled, though it was faint through the lump in her throat. "You're drunk... Sleep should come easily enough."

"Astoria's a bed hog," he murmured.

Draco snuggled closer into Hermione on a deep, cinnamon-flavored exhale a second later. His hand slid around her thigh, worming between them as if to keep his fingers warm, as if to hold on to something that had never really been, and she tried not to gasp. Tried to ignore the warmth that seeped through her thin pajamas and the butterflies frenzying inside her gut.

"Draco… This-"

"Is dangerous," he whispered, head falling onto Hermione's shoulder.

"Ron or Astoria could -"

He huffed slightly. "I don't care about them…"

"You…" Hermione stammered, shakily inhaling. "You should. They're -"

"Temporary."

_Temporary_.

Hermione couldn't respond as her mind reeled. Ron wasn't temporary. They'd been dating for four years now, Draco and Astoria for nearly just as long. How… how could he say that both were temporary? Meaningless.

"They're not…" Hermione murmured before echoing a mantra she'd sang to Ron more than once. "We're just friends…"

"Friends don't look at friends the way we look at each other, Granger…"

Her gut clenched as he sucked the air from her lungs with just a single statement. So he had noticed. All those months of trying to hide the way she felt. What her eyes, her damned eyes, had been screaming with every thought she'd had. Just like his had. 

"Please…" he sighed softly, a jagged inhale making the couch ripple. "Please just let me have this. Just five minutes."

Hermione swallowed thickly, gently leaning her head to rest against his. She wanted to cry. _This_ was what she'd wanted for so long. But right now, it felt… it felt wrong.

They were both with other people and had been their entire friendship. Hell, Ron had even asked recently what sort of engagement ring she thought she'd like. But Hermione couldn't imagine a day going by that she didn't see Draco. Couldn't imagine looking at him and not seeing everything she'd ever wanted.

And the worst part? He wouldn't even remember this moment between them in the morning. He was following drunken instinct - truthful instinct, but drunken nonetheless. So he wouldn't even remember. Hermione would have to watch him wake up tomorrow and wrap his arms around Astoria, play the doting boyfriend, with this memory on the forefront of her mind.

A soft snore pierced through the stifling silence. A quick glance confirmed he'd fallen asleep, clutching her thigh as if some sort of lifeline. So Hermione let him sleep, digging back into her book until the darkened sky began to shine purple with the approaching sun. Setting the book in her lap, she turned toward the blond man that tarried in her dreams.

"Draco…" Hermione murmured, running a hand over his hair and down his cheek. "You need to go get in bed before Astoria wakes up."

For a moment, she wasn't sure her voice had been loud enough to wake him. But he signed heavily and leaned into her hand that cupped his cheek. It took a moment for his eyes to flutter open. But when they did, Hermione saw the glassy sheen of tears over them. The same one that gradually threatened her vision.

He didn't say a word, only squeezed her thigh before he stood, slowly shuffling toward the stairs. Hermione wanted to call out, to tell him to come back and stay with her until the sun rose on a new day. Yet, she kept her mouth shut, watching him retreat without looking back.

Until he was three stairs up and paused, glancing over his shoulders. His eyes no longer held the sheen of tears or the glass of drunkenness; instead, they held a sadness. The same one that Hermione felt eating away at her gut when he frowned and ascended the stairs.

Maybe he would remember.


	16. Friends Don't, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of last week's Drabble "Friends Don't." Giving my subs a pre-read before I post in DFFR 2.0. I told you, I didn't promise a relief from the hurt. Don't hate me. But this one is rough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for DFFR 2.0 Prompt: Valentine's Day
> 
> Continuation of Friends Don't from last week

Another Valentine's Day alone.

But it wasn't unusual to spend a holiday, even one as made up as this one, alone. Ron worked, Harry alongside him, on most if not all major and minor holidays. So Hermione would do what she always had: order muggle takeaway, pour herself a nice large glass of wine, pull a book from the shelf, and read until she fell asleep with a spoon in a tub of ice cream.

Not a bad plan at all, in her mind.

But halfway into her night of solitude, the green tint of her Floo roaring to life caught her unexpectedly. But less so than the man who tumbled through, face serious, eyes wide and directed on her the moment he appeared.

She hadn't seen Draco Malfoy since returning home from their winter holiday on the seaside roughly a month ago. She'd specifically stayed away, choosing to stay home when Ron went to meet him for a beer. Or when Harry invited them over for dinner and drinks, knowing Draco may likely be there.

But based on the thin set of his lips and flare of his nostrils, perhaps it had had a rather unexpected effect.

"I can't do it anymore."

Hermione furrowed her brows, sitting her book down on the couch beside her. "Do what?"

"Astoria. I can't do it anymore."

A sharp pain sliced through Hermione's heart. So it wasn't about her. It was about Astoria. But Hermione merely nodded, trying to shield her expression from the hurt that she shouldn't be feeling as she stood, stepping toward him.

It was clear he was agitated by the way he shoved his hand through his hair.

"What happened? You two seemed so happy in Fiji…"

"I can't pretend to love her anymore," he said on a snarled exhale. "When all I think about is _you_."

That was enough to stop Hermione in her tracks. Enough to make her eyes grow wide and lips separate in surprise. She'd dreamt of hearing those words tumble from his lips. But… but not now. Not like this.

"I can't go to her parents' house tonight and propose. I can't. I _won't_."

She was speechless for a moment as their eyes met. Neither blinked in the long moments of silence. Neither breathed. It was Hermione who exhaled first, breaking the tension open with a shake of her head.

"Draco...we chose this. We chose them."

"No!" He roared, and Hermione flinched. "No, I didn't choose her. I _don't_ choose her. I want you, Granger. I've always wanted you. I can't fake it anymore."

Hermione felt the throat close, tears welling in her eyes. No, this couldn't possibly be happening. This couldn't be real. She was dreaming. Whatever they felt for one another was supposed to stay hidden, buried. Away from the light of realness.

"I… I'm with Ron -"

"Weasley's not even here!" He roared anew, throwing his hands into the air. "It's Valentine's Day, and he's not here!"

"He's an Auror, Draco!" Hermione snapped back, without any force. "You know he has to work!"

"He never makes time for you!"

"I - you don't know."

"I do. I _do_ know. Who spends more time with you?"

"What - it… that doesn't matter!"

"It does matter, Hermione!" he shouted, and she could hardly hear him over the blood roaring in her ears. Over the resounding thump of her heart. "I don't know what Astoria's favorite color is. I don't care how she takes her tea or if she even reads. I only _care_ about any of that for _you_. Bloody two sugars and a splash of milk, if you're not drinking coffee. Nietzsche on your bookshelf and a bloody Goblin Wars book in that bag of yours!

I love you, Hermione! I love _you_. Bloody gods dammit, why can't you see it!"

"I can! I have seen it! But -"

"No buts! No. Please, fuck, Hermione, please! Just…" he stalled, his words catching in his throat as his now hoarse voice went soft. "...Just come with me."

"What… what are you even saying, Draco?"

"Come with me. Just-"

"Come where?" Hermione shouted suddenly. "We can't just _run away_. We're adults! This is real life! We can't just run away from it because we don't like the hand we've been dealt!"

"I want to give my hand back! I don't want to marry her," he wailed, sinking to his knees. "I… I don't want to live without you."

His head fell into his palm, and Hermione could see the obvious sobs wracking his body. Every step she took towards him drove the crack of her heart just a bit further towards shatter. Tears tumbled from her eyes as she stepped into him, and his shaking, hopeless hands gripped her thighs like she'd vanish if he didn't hold her.

It took everything in Hermione's power not to sink into his embrace when he glanced up, red cheeks as crimson as his tear-filled eyes. But she cupped his chin in both hands, making sure he couldn't turn away.

"You…" her voice cracked. "You'll never be without me, Draco."

His jaw quivered in her hands, and Hermione felt her heart shatter wholly when his face crumpled into deeper sadness. "She… she said I couldn't… I can't see you."

Hermione's entire body convulsed with jagged sobs at his words. Astoria _knew_. There was no other reason to forbid him from seeing Hermione. Astoria knew that they were in love. The next words were out of her mouth before she even had a chance to process them.

"Let's go."

He leaned back suddenly, eyes laser-focused on hers through the tearful cloud shadowing both. "Wh - what?"

"Let's go. I hear Paris is nice on Val-"

She hadn't even finished her statement before he was on his feet, towering over her, lips crashing to hers with the most emotion-filled kiss she'd ever shared. His fingers threaded through her curls, her hands fisting in his shirt to keep him close. To hold this moment as if any second could make it disappear, vanish into nothing.

It was wrong. She knew it. She knew he knew it. But neither cared. All that mattered at that moment was the feel of their lips together and the hot swirl of their tears as their tongues danced.

"I love you, Hermione," he murmured against her lips between chaste kissing. "I love you. I love you."

His whisper sang like a mantra. A mantra she had desperately wanted to hear since the first moment they'd shared a book.

"I love you, too, Draco," she sighed, pulling back to fix her sights to his. "Go get some clothes and meet me back here in ten minutes."

Another chaste kiss, his hands cupping her cheeks so softly it was almost unbearable. "Ten minutes. I'll be back."

And with one final kiss, he was gone in a blaze of green.

Shakily, Hermione sank onto her knees and sobbed in the silence he left behind. She knew it had been wrong to lead him on. To make a promise that she couldn't keep, that she wasn't _ready_ to keep.

Summoning her wand, she closed her eyes so tightly it hurt, and with a whispered charm, she locked her Floo.


	17. Friends Don't, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okayyyyyy. So I hadn't planned to continue Friends Don't after last week's update, but I felt bad for all the hurt. So here's a little bit of a make up and the reason why Hermione shit Draco out.
> 
> Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Prompt: Single Parent
> 
> And keep in mind, I don't have children so I'm just going at it the best I can lol

The rowdy laughter of children filled Hermione's ears, the gathered parents around her chuckling with delight. She had to admit that this storytime reader was better than the last, and all of the kids seemed to truly love him. Including her own daughter currently giggling and sloppily clapping her hands together, perched on her lap.

Rose Helen Granger, the curly-haired, brunette toddler that was spitting-image of Hermione herself. Save for her father's bright blue eyes that seared memory into Hermione's mind every time her daughter smiled widely. She was Hermione's pride and joy, her everything. Her reason for being and reason for continuing.

Rosie looked over her shoulder and pointed happily at the man acting like a dinosaur at the head of the room. Her happy giggling stretched a broad smile across Hermione's face. She nodded mirthfully, cherishing this time together before Rose turned back toward the man when he let out a fierce growl.

Hermione knew their time here was running short. Her daughter would start to show magical abilities soon, accidental or otherwise, if she possessed a core deep within. And their time in the Muggle world would have to dwindle, if not wane completely. They'd have to find a place to play and live and just… be, until she was old enough to control herself and her magic. Until she… 

Hermione shivered slightly, trying to quell the tears at her daughter leaving on the Hogwarts Express. It wouldn't happen for nine years now, if at all, but somehow that thought was already all-consuming. Trying to push her thoughts away, she turned her attention back to the man now on all-fours. He truly was an expert at his craft. Storytime lingered, and before the book closed, Rose was sprawled awkwardly across Hermione's lap, dead asleep.

Sighing with relief at the sight, Hermione collected the small toddler in her arms, nesting her on a hip before bidding the other parents goodbye. Poor Rose had had an immensely difficult night, unable to fall asleep through some odd nightmares that plagued her. The quiet exhales of her breath on Hermione's neck were far more soothing than anything the curly-haired witch ever felt before.

But pushing open the door with her bum turned out to be the wrong way to exit her neighborhood's bookshop. She turned too quickly, nearly colliding with a man who had his hand outstretched for the door. Grimacing and hoping the jagged movement didn't wake her daughter, Hermione glanced up to silently apologize, but an audible gasp left her lips.

Standing before her was a man she hadn't seen in nearly three years. A man she had convinced to leave her flat and gather his things so they could run away. A man who she had, at one point, loved so consumingly she couldn't think of anyone else.

Draco's lips parted twice, eyes darting between Hermione and the sleeping Rose on her shoulder before he clapped his mouth shut tightly. His nostrils flared a few times, hand lingering awkwardly in the air before recognition donned on his face and he withdrew it quickly.

Hermione expected some sort of scratching retort. Some sort of argument that her daughter shouldn't hear. But when his lips separated again, he only breathed, "Ha - how old is she?"

"Just over two…"

His face was a muddled mixture of shock, aw, and understanding as he breathed again, "You were pregnant."

Hermione nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yes, I was."

They stood for a moment, both silent, eyes locked. Rose stirred and Hermione tensed, dreading the inevitable scream that would leave her daughter's lips. But she merely sighed, and Hermione heard herself do the same. Draco's gaze shifted to the toddler in her arms and stayed there for a long time before shifting back to hers.

There were a thousand questions in the grey-cerulean swirl of his eyes. A thousand thoughts he wanted to say but it was clear he couldn't find the words. And Hermione found herself grateful when he merely stepped aside.

"Thank you, Draco."

"It was… good to see you, Granger."

Hermione nodded, not letting the tears slowly forming in her eyes to show. She ducked her head and walked faster than she had in years to her and Rose's tiny flat.

* * *

Dinosaur man, as he had so affectionately been named, was back the next Wednesday storybook hour, and all the neighborhood children shrieked with glee when he appeared. It seemed this week was a puppet show reading, an elaborate one, and Hermione let Rose wander closer to the contraption he had set up. Sinking with pure exhaustion into a chair at the back of the room, she yawned.

Rose hadn't slept a full night, if even more than two hours, in over a week. Every night she awoken in screams, begging her mother to help her. She couldn't articulate what was wrong, and the Muggle doctors couldn't find any sort of ailment. And the endless nights of little sleep were grinding on Hermione's sensibilities.

All signs pointed to something magical, and the thought brought tears to her eyes. She'd have to go back into Wizarding London - for the first time in almost three years. But it would be worth it if her daughter could find any semblance of peace.

A roar of unabashed, youthful laughter rang through the tiny bookstore, and Hermione lifted her head. The kids were indeed enjoying the puppet show, but what nearly made her breathless was the flash of blond hair standing in the small room's doorway. A pair of piercing gray eyes were settled undeviatingly upon her and Hermione felt her throat close.

It was incredibly difficult to tear her gaze away from an image that played on repeat in the scant hours of sleep she managed, but she did. Just as her daughter waddled over and asked to be held. She thought she could feel his stare on her, on her daughter, as the puppet show continued. But when she glanced back, he was gone.

Just as she had the week before, Rose was sprawled across Hermione's lap, sleeping, by the end. With another nod to the parents around, Hermione collected her daughter and made for the door. 

But a sight stopped her in her tracks. Draco was sitting on the bench before the window, pale blond hair glistening under the mid-afternoon summer sun. Inhaling one sharp breath, she pushed through the door. Every ounce of her wanted to run, but she shoved it away and stepped around him, sitting and adjusting Rose.

"You could have told me."

Hermione sighed, softly responding, "I hadn't even told Ron yet. I found out after the beach…"

He was silent for a long moment, Rose's soft grunt the only sounds between them. "He's in Wales with the Catapults?"

"He left," Hermione said quietly, and felt her gut turn in a knot. His fists tightened where they sat in his thigh.

"That's why you left London," he muttered through clenched teeth, and Hermione could hear a fire in his voice. "He abandoned you."

"He said he wasn't ready, and he left. He went…" 

Rose stirred then, a whimper leaving her lips that made Hermione's heart sink. Moving quickly, she pulled the toddler from her shoulder and cradled her in her arms. Shaking her softly, Hermione said forcefully, "Rosie, wake up. Wake up. Mummy's here."

Her eyes flicked open quickly, the same panic etched in them that had been there every night this week. "Shh, it's okay. It's just a dream. I'm here."

Rose moved quickly, and Hermione drew her daughter close. The toddler buried her head in the crook of Hermione's neck with a silent sob. She felt her own tears welling, a soft, shuddered exhale passing her lips as she held her daughter tightly.

A moment later, a firm hand enclosed around her knee, and Hermione started. She'd forgotten Draco was beside her. Glancing at him was her undoing. Absolute worry littered his face and broke her hold around her sobs.

"Where do you live?" He asked softly. "Let me walk you home."

She led the way, his hand settled in the middle of her back reassuringly as they walked side by side. By the time they came upon her flat, both her and Rose's sobs had ebbed into quiet sniffles.

"Thank you, Draco," she murmured as they lingered on her building's stoop.

"You don't need to thank me…"

Rose stirred at the sound of his voice, head popping up briefly before she huffed and buried her head back into Hermione's neck.

"Rosie," Hermione chided, voice still thick with tears. "Say hello to Mr. Malfoy."

The toddler's hand lifted and waved, rather flailed, in the air wildly between them, and Draco merely chuckled.

"She's a bit shy around new people," Hermione conceded. "But… thank you, again. I should -"

He stepped forward once and placed a hand on her arm. "Granger, wait. Will… would you have dinner with me?"

Rose's head popped up at that with an eager smile on her face that made a genuine yet watery laugh escape Hermione's lips. "She loves dinner."

"Then she's invited, too," he said willingly, and a smirk she hadn't seen in far too long danced across his face.

Hermione felt a bubble of happiness, deep inside, trying to break through her dread. "Saturday?"

"It's a date. Ms. Rosie," he utterly smoothly to the toddler in her arms. "It was one of the greatest pleasures of my life to meet you."

Rose giggled and stuffed her head back into the crook of Hermione's neck. And Hermione couldn't breathe as Draco murmured something about an owl and walked away.


	18. Friends Don't, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, you asked for it, so I'm going to continue this. Be on the lookout that I might pull this out into its own fic in the near future.
> 
> Posting early again for the subbies. Dramione Fanfiction Recommendations 2.0 Drabble Days Prompt: second chances
> 
> This is just some Harry and Hermione friendship time. We'll get to the dinner date next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward, this story will post here: [a second shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641116/chapters/72873693)

When the Floo roared to life on Saturday morning, painting her sitting room and the hallway with a green tinge, it felt like a weight lifted from Hermione's shoulders. She didn't need to see who had just strolled through her hearth to feel relief - she knew. He came every Saturday morning to spend time with her and Rose.

"Where are my two favorite girls?" Harry Potter's voice called, and Rose's head popped up from her coloring book with a broad grin.

Crayons were left abandoned as Rose stumbled to her feet, throwing her hand out eagerly for Hermione to take it. The curly-haired witch only chuckled at the demanding miniature version of herself, vaulting to her feet before the toddler wandered too far away on her own.

Footsteps echoed down the hall before Harry appeared in Rose's bedroom door, hunched down with his fingers out like claws, face scrunched up. Roaring, "There they are!"

And he scuttled into the room, mockingly tickling Rose as she squealed, flailing like an animal caught in a cage. Harry scooped the toddler from the floor, spinning her like an aeroplane as Hermione watched on with a delighted, relieved smile. Rose's sharp laughter as Harry peppered fake kisses to her head was truly like music.

Harry nestled Rose on his hip, crossing the small room to pull Hermione into a hug, peppering kisses to the crown of her head, too. Rose's small hand wrapped around the back of Hermione's head, Harry's height making it a bit awkward, but the three stood in a short embrace just long enough to fill Hermione's heart with unmitigated love.

Harry pressed one more kiss to the top of Hermione's head, with ease, and pulled back. "Hey, 'Mione."

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione responded, offering her hands to Rose.

Rose glanced at her mother's hands and turned quickly, wrapping her arms around Harry's neck and buried her face in his chest. The adults laughed, Hermione rocking her head with a smile.

"I'm no more than minced liver when uncle Harry is here," she chuckled. "Breakfast?"

"Sounds lovely," Harry responded, trailing Hermione from her daughter's room and to the small open kitchen.

Hermione flicked her wand, and the kitchen hummed to life, pots and pans clanging as they settled onto the stove. Rose clapped animatedly as the fridge opened, ingredients floating out and mixing into a bowl beside the burner that roared to life. Her daughter loved watching magic, and the notion always filled Hermione with happiness. Even if she didn't develop magic, she'd still have an appreciation for the unknown, the unusual. Something that would make her a better person as she aged.

The food was ready quickly, the luscious smell of drop scones filling her tiny flat. Harry was strapping Rose into her high chair when Hermione set their plates on her two-person dining table. He was the first to slather his pancakes in syrup, followed by Rose's pouting when she was offered none.

"These are delicious, 'Mione," Harry praised after tucking in, relenting and cutting a piece of his syrup scone off and feeding it to Rose.

"They're Molly's recipe," Hermione murmured, pushing her food around her plate. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know the answer, but with a bit of anxiousness, she asked, "Have you spoken to her?"

"No, none of them, outside of George and Ginny," he answered, and Hermione could hear the earnestness in his voice. "Gin misses you, ya know. She's just as mad at them as we are."

"I know… She's sent owls."

"She's just waiting for your Floocall."

"...Maybe," Hermione sighed.

She'd have to call on Ginny one day, and by the sound of it, George, too. But she still couldn't help the feeling of dread in her stomach when she thought back to months before Rose was born. When the Weasleys had turned their back on her, in favor of their son and brother.

But that was a problem for another day.

By the time Hermione and Harry were done eating, Rose had fallen asleep in her chair, head thrown back with her mouth wide.

"She's still not sleeping at night?" Harry sought as he flourished his wand to clear away the plates.

"No…" Hermione sighed, running a hand down her face. "She wakes up screaming every night. Only once did she sleep for more than four hours."

Harry rocked his head, reaching his hand across the table to wrap around Hermione's. "And the Muggle doctors?"

"Still nothing. They say she's a perfectly healthy two-year-old and it's just a bit of nightmares. But what does a toddler have to fear so vehemently?" Hermione sighed anew, shifting her gaze to her sleeping daughter at her side."...I think… No, I _know_ that I'm going to have to go to Mungos. I can feel it. It's… it has to be something magical."

"You'll figure this out, 'Mione," Harry murmured, squeezing her hand. "We'll figure it out. What did you do differently to get her to sleep four hours?"

"Nothing…" Hermione whispered. "I've already gone over the day in my mind. Nothing unusual or different happened."

"Nothing?"

"Other than Draco showing up at the bookstore, nothing."

"Wait - did you... Draco?" Harry sputtered, his face holding absolute shock as his hand released Hermione's. So he hadn't told Theo then. "As in, ferret Draco Malfoy who told you he -"

"Yes, Harry, Draco Malfoy. We ran into one another - well I ran into him, really," Hermione said. "At the bookstore last week. He didn't say much, just asked how old Rose was…"

Harry's slow nod was all the confirmation Hermione needed to know he knew what she meant. She'd told him everything, years later, after Ron had abandoned her and her unborn child in favor of following professional Quidditch teams as they toured. About what she'd felt for Draco and that Valentine's Day that was seared into her subconscious.

"He came back this week, and we talked. Not long, and only about Ron before Rose started to have a nightmare. He walked me home, and… well, he's coming over later to cook Rosie and me dinner."

Harry's smile was broader than she expected when she glanced back up at him. "Never did I think I'd be so… _happy_ that Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy have a second chance."

"It's not a second chance, Harry," Hermione scoffed, but something twisted in her stomach that she'd been trying to ignore since receiving Draco owl Wednesday night asking if it would be easiest to cook her dinner in her own home. "He's just -"

"Coming over to _your flat_ to cook you and your daughter dinner. Sounds second chancie to me," Harry smirked. "I'm going to kill Theo. There's no way he didn't know about this."

"He may not-"

Rose jerked in her sleep suddenly and Hermione's words died with her heart thrusting into her throat. But rather than a loud scream ripping from her daughter's throat, the toddler settled, head lulling to the side. It took a long moment for Hermione's heart rate to settle again before she glanced at Harry. He wore an equally pained expression and his hand spanned the table again and enclosed around hers.

"Go take a shower or a nice long bath. I'll watch her and play with her when she wakes up," he said softly, winking. "You've got a date to get ready for."

Hermione rolled her eyes, huffing, "It's not a date, Harry Potter!"

"Tell yourself whatever you'd like," he laughed and waged his eyebrows with a cheeky grin "Just make sure you shave."

Hermione merely rolled her eyes, even though she kissed Harry gratefully on the cheek before she wandered down the hallway to her room. She hadn't truly bathed in days, and the hot water washing away some of her stress was like pure bliss. And she did shave, but _not_ because Draco Malfoy would be in her home tonight, but because _she_ wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward, this story will post here: [a second shot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641116/chapters/72873693)


End file.
